


something borrowed

by MaddieContrary



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Brief mention of Alana/Will, Cheating, M/M, Slightly OOC considering the fic's circumstances
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:54:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25687654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaddieContrary/pseuds/MaddieContrary
Summary: Hannibal finally meets Alana's fiance when he throws a small party for the soon-to-be bride and groom.He's immediately intrigued by Will.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 42
Kudos: 381





	something borrowed

**Author's Note:**

> Based on [WitchesBrew's](https://twitter.com/glowcloud26) wonderful prompt:  
>  _Will and Alana are getting married and Alana invites Hanni who's never met Will. When Hanni sees Will for the first time at the wedding he is interested. Hanni fucks the groom to within an inch of his life in the toilets._  
>  Hanni sows the seeds of divorce and runs off with Will.
> 
> This might not fit the prompt to the letter and the fic definitely got away from me (IT WASN'T SUPPOSED TO BE 7K OF WORDS MAN WHAT IS THIS), but I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Additional note: Approximately a 30min read.

Will tugs at his tie ruefully, immensely uncomfortable at the peacocking he’s expected to perform tonight. He squints at his reflection through the window of his vehicle; it’s too dark out and all he can see is his miserable silhouette backlit against the bright streetlights.

“Stop playing with it,” Alana says, laughing while she gently pats his shoulder, her eyes dancing with mirth as she looks him up and down. “You look great.”

“Yeah, well,” Will grouses, “I’ll feel even better when this is all over with.”

“When ‘this’ is all over, huh?” Alana teases, smiling wryly. “I don’t know if I should be offended that you’re referring to our wedding in that manner. Is there something you want to tell me?”

Will sighs and shakes his head, feeling oddly guilty. “Sorry. You know how I am with strangers. I still don’t get why we have to go through all this dinner party before the wedding.”

Alana gives him another smile before leaning in for a soft, chaste kiss. “Be nice. Hannibal is being really generous in offering his time to host this small get-together for us since I told him we won’t be having a rehearsal dinner. He’s been my mentor and friend for almost a decade now; I think it’s a beautiful gesture. I’d really appreciate it if you could try to enjoy this for a little bit?”

He bites back his sigh. There’s no point in reiterating how he feels about gatherings or receptions or anything that involves crowds of living humans, considering she already knows how much he hates it, so he keeps his weariness to himself. He doesn’t want to sour the mood between them, not with how many petty arguments they’ve gotten into over wedding arrangements in the last few months. To that end, he lets her steer them both to the front door of this Hannibal Lecter he has heard so much of.

Alana smiles at him in encouragement as she raps her knuckles lightly against the door. His shoulders immediately tense in anticipation when the door opens to reveal a handsome, striking man who’s decked in a rather ostentatious three-piece suit.

“Alana,” the man says, his eyes soft and warm as it falls on her.

Much to Will’s surprise, the man lifts Alana’s hand and bestows a soft kiss upon it before he lets go and turns to Will next.

“And Will Graham, I presume?” the man asks, looking amused at the shock that must be apparent on Will’s face. His accent sounds distinctly European, his syllables pointed and measured as he speaks.

 _Probably explains the whole gentleman act_ , Will thinks. _Who even bothers with the whole chivalry act these days?_

Will schools his expression into something more placid and attempts a smile.

“Yes,” he says curtly, unsure what to make of this man before him. There’s a quiet sense of power in the way the man holds himself, and an obvious pride in his own looks and character if Will were to judge him at first glance. 

The man extends a hand out to him with a small smile, amused by Will’s brisk manner. “Dr. Hannibal Lecter. Pleased to meet you.”

Will nods and shakes Hannibal’s hand for a few seconds before they fall back into their previous positions, both of them subtly assessing each other.

“Are we fashionably late or just the rude kind of late?” Alana asks, breaking the brief silence when neither of the men seem inclined to speak.

“You’re just in time, in fact,” Hannibal says, shifting his eyes to Alana and stepping aside. “Come in, they’ve just started serving the food. Let me take your coats.”

Once their coats are safely tucked inside the closet, Hannibal steers them from the vestibule into another room that houses an alarming amount of people milling about while they mingle and laugh about the latest piece of gossip. There’s a soft sound of classical music playing in the background, and Will sees a gramophone at the corner of the large room. The house looks much as Will expected, the decorations as ostentatious as the doctor himself.

Will listens to the idle chatter as they make their way through the crowd, and he senses eyes on him and Alana as Hannibal introduces them both in passing. Most of the guests seem to know Hannibal and Alana, and their gazes shift curiously to Will before Hannibal whisks them away to a different group. Hannibal seems to relish parading them around the politely interested crowd, enjoying his role as the host. 

The size of the crowd is bearable, and the overall ambiance of the entire party feels like a refined garden party where everyone sips their tea with their pinkies out. Several servers pass them by while offering appetizers, though Will is too antsy to try anything, even while Alana tells him that Hannibal’s meals are “to die for." He thinks he might just throw up if he forces himself to eat something.

At last, just when it feels like he’s been introduced to every single person in the crowd, Hannibal finally places them at a corner of the room, slightly out of the center of attention. Hannibal fluidly plucks up two glasses of red wine from a server’s tray and hands one to Will and Alana.

“Alana, you look beautiful tonight,” Hannibal says as he procures his own glass of wine.

Will stops himself from sighing and rolling his eyes, but only just. _Here we go_ _with the small talk._

“Thank you, Hannibal,” Alana says, her smile warm and pleased as she takes a sip of her drink. “You look very dashing yourself.”

“You flatter me. I’m sure I don’t look half as good as your lucky fiancée,” Hannibal says, with a toast and a wink at Will.

Will tries not to scoff and covers it up by hastily taking a sip of his drink. _Are all Europeans this damn forward?_

Seemingly unbothered by Will’s lack of social grace, Hannibal smiles at the two of them. “Tell me, how did you two meet?”

“What, Alana hasn’t told you yet? I thought everyone in this room would know our history by now.” Will didn't mean to sound waspish, but Hannibal smiles at him like he’s charmed instead of affronted. _Right. Aren’t you a weird one._

Alana throws Will a meaningful glance before she puts on a bright smile again. “I guess you could say we met through mutual acquaintances at a conference we both attended. Things naturally progressed from there.”

Will tunes the conversation out while Alana talks for the both of them, letting his mind wander as he stares at a spot beyond Hannibal’s shoulder.

While he and Alana had indeed met through mutual acquaintances, Alana clearly didn’t want to bring up the fact that she had initially approached Will for his “intriguing mind” instead of a potential relationship. On his part, Will had found her attractive and entertained her interest by flirting with her, thinking that it would scare her away since she’s clearly heard about his empathy. He was, however, surprised when his flirtations and advances were acknowledged and actually _received_ that he didn’t put too much thought into it before they somehow fell into a relationship.

Perhaps it was a lapse of judgment on both of their parts, but Will was content at the time to go with the flow and enjoy having a “normal” relationship for once. He ignored the voice inside of his head that he was only playing at being normal because it was nice to not be alone for a change.

He thinks he could do much worse. He’s never one to look the gift horse in the mouth, and the fact that his relationship with Alana was his longest relationship yet (they’re approaching the one-year mark soon) means that this is probably as good as it gets for someone like him.

And so here they are, playing at being the happy couple before they tie the knot in less than twenty-four hours.

He’s startled out of his reverie when he feels a grounding touch on his arm and the sense that he’s being scrutinized.

“What a wonderful way to meet,” Hannibal is saying as he beams at Will. “I admit I’ve heard much about your unique mind, Will.”

“Oh? Did you hear that from your mutual acquaintances?” Will asks wryly, wincing slightly at the way Alana’s touch turns into a vice grip at his dry tone. “Seems like your psychiatrist circle has been busy talking about me.” 

Hannibal only chuckles in answer, and Will is surprised to see the man looking distinctly charmed by Will’s acerbic ways.

“The psychiatrist circles, as you say, have been speculating on the rumors of your pure empathy,” Hannibal admits, exchanging a smile with Alana. “But I suppose Dr. Bloom has the advantage over us all when it comes to knowing what really goes on in that mind of yours.”

Not liking where the conversation is going, Will keeps his mouth wisely shut and ignores Hannibal’s probing gaze by letting his own gaze wander around the other side of the room, eager to escape the man’s scrutiny.

That turns out to be the wrong move since his gaze immediately falls onto another source of headache:

“Ah, Dr. Lecter! Here you are!” Frederick Chilton, clearly sensing an opening, insinuates himself into their small circle with an ingratiating smile. “Hello, Alana. And I assume this is Will Graham?” He resumes talking without waiting for a response: “If so, you have yourself quite a catch, if I may say so myself.”

“Doesn’t she?” Hannibal murmurs, taking a sip of his champagne with his eyes trained on Will.

Will barely holds back rolling his eyes at the exchange between the three psychiatrists, all of their attention on him: Hannibal looks amused, Alana seems torn between laughing and keeping her polite manner, while Chilton looks as pompous as always. It doesn’t take Will’s empathy to see that Chilton is clearly trying to emulate Hannibal’s ways and manner of speaking, though it comes across as highly pretentious on him.

This is what he gets when he agreed to marry a psychiatrist, Will supposes. Maybe he deserves what’s coming to him.

“Yes, Frederick,” Alana says, clearly trying to fight back a laugh. “This is Will Graham, and Will, this is Dr. Frederick Chilton.”

“We’ve ‘met’, for lack of a better word,” Will says icily, throwing an insincere smile to Chilton. “I believe you tried to approach me about my empathy when you were conducting a study into the psyche of the killers you have in your institute. You wanted to use my empathy so that I can immerse myself in the serial killers’ minds and _you_ could publish some papers on them based on my ‘insights’.”

“Yes, well,” Chilton says, shrugging a little, looking slightly uncomfortable at Will’s venomous tone, though he pushes on. “It was worth a shot, knowing what we know of you and your… _peculiar_ insights.”

Will hums noncommittally and turns his attention away from Chilton, bored of the conversation already. He can feel Hannibal’s eyes on him still even though the man was still talking with Alana and Chilton, and it feels intrusive in a way that he can’t quite put his finger on. There’s too much interest in the doctor’s gaze, though Will doesn’t think his interest has anything to do with Will’s empathy.

Alarmingly, he thinks there’s something… more in the way Hannibal looks at him, but he doesn’t let himself think about it. That way lies madness, especially when he's trying to quell the simmering panic thought of this whole wedding being a mistake.

“So, Will,” Chilton says, pulling Will’s attention to him again. “I suppose you’re still teaching your classes in Quantico instead of joining us in the actual battlefields? Thought you’d be bored with it by now. You’d save a lot more lives if you could put you and your empathy to good use, you know.”

Will can’t quite help the eye roll this time around. “Did you borrow that line from Jack Crawford?”

“I have had words with Jack Crawford on Will’s involvement with the BAU,” Alana interrupts before Chilton can speak, placing a soothing hand on Will’s arm. “I’ve told him in no uncertain terms that it’s best for everyone that all of Will’s involvement in his consultation for the BAU does not extend to actual fieldwork. Will still does a great job in catching the killers at the end of the day.”

There’s a flare of resentment at the way Alana coddles him, and he can feel his ire simmering just beneath the surface. Instead of letting it consume him, he opts to make a strategic retreat to the bathroom instead of listening to people discuss him as if he’s a party trick to be pulled out as a grand finale at the end of a performance.

Unfortunately, Chilton seems to sense his plan just as Will makes an excuse to turn away, and he tries to block his exit by crowding closer to Will in an attempt to engage him with more of his tiresome conversation. The upshot of it all is that Will ends up being drenched in his own drink when he collides with Chilton in his hurry to get away.

Sighing as the rest of the guests look on in stunned silence, he stares at the damp mess spreading into his shirt, though his jacket has managed to escape relatively unscathed at least.

There’s a general murmur of surprise and flurry of activity as Chilton tries to apologize and Alana fusses over Will, the rest of the onlookers obviously intrigued by the turn of events. _Take a picture, it’ll last longer,_ Will thinks irritably.

“I’m _fine_ , Alana, I just need to go to the bathroom—” Will insists over Alana’s harried tone as she tries to ineffectively dab a napkin against the wet stain on his shirt.

“Please don’t trouble yourselves. I’d be happy to show Will to the bathroom, if you’ll excuse us both, Alana,” Hannibal says, sweeping in between Will and Alana. “I’m sure you wouldn’t mind entertaining the rest of the guests who have come in your and Will’s honor.”

Alana frowns slightly, but she accepts it with a nod when she sees Will’s frown. “Okay, go ahead, I’ll be fine. I’ll just go over to Bedelia and say hi while you clean up, okay?”

Annoyed, Will just nods and follows where Hannibal leads him wordlessly. He just needs an escape from Chilton and the rest of the crowd. Maybe he can lock himself in the bathroom for an hour until everyone goes home. He should’ve just pretended to have food poisoning tonight and not come at all.

He also should’ve paid attention to where they were going because he came close to colliding with Hannibal when the man stopped in his tracks a few seconds earlier.

Will blinks and finds himself looking up from his shoe to stare blankly at Hannibal’s face.

“The bathroom,” Hannibal says, amused at Will’s distracted look. “You can freshen up here while I try to find something that could fit you.”

Will begins to shake his head, to tell him there’s no need before he realizes he can’t really get the stain of the drink out of his shirt, and he can’t really go shirtless beneath his dinner jacket. He lets out a defeated sigh and runs a hand through his curls.

“Sure, thanks,” he mumbles before moving past Hannibal to enter the bathroom.

He sees a slight smile on Hannibal’s face as the man walks away to find a shirt for Will. Will huffs a little before closing the bathroom door and turning to the sink and looking at his reflection. His shirt is almost completely drenched, though at least his pants are relatively dry. At least it doesn't look like he's had a bladder accident, he supposes. Small mercies.

The door to the bathroom falls open just as Will was in the process of taking off his wet shirt, and he hears a slight intake of breath from Hannibal when the man barges in without warning. Ignoring the other man, Will takes off the shirt and drapes it over the sink carelessly before he turns his attention to Hannibal.

He feels his cheeks reddening in a mixture of embarrassment and disbelief when he sees Hannibal basically _checking him out_ , and doing so unabashedly at that. Will raises an eyebrow and extends his hand out for the shirt in Hannibal’s hands, uncaring if he’s being rude with his gesture.

Hannibal doesn’t seem perturbed at all to be caught ogling another man – even worse, another man who’s engaged to his protégé. A man with very little shame, then. He merely smiles again before he speaks. “This was the closest thing I could find that fits your wardrobe tonight, forgive me if it falls a little loose on you.”

Will snorts, shaking his head and putting the shirt on. It’s slightly bigger on him, but the fitting doesn’t matter once he puts on the dinner jacket. Satisfied, he turns back to Hannibal with a stiff nod. “Thanks. I owe you.”

“No thanks necessary,” Hannibal says. “I would apologize for Frederick’s behavior, but I fear he still has a few hours more to make a fool of himself, so I will deliver all apologies by the end of the night if anything else falls below your expectations tonight.”

Will bursts into reluctant laughter at that. “For someone who behaves like a well-bred socialite, you really don’t mince your words, do you?”

“I thought you’d appreciate honesty more than placative words.”

Will hums, narrowing his eyes. “Please don’t psychoanalyze me, doctor.”

Hannibal smiles. “Apologies. Hard to switch it off.”

“Right. Maybe we should get back to the party.”

“Of course. If you could give me your shirt, I can put it in the laundry right now and have it back to you by tomorrow.”

“Uh,” Will hedges, even though he knows there’s really only one choice. “Sure… thanks. I mean. Sorry about all this. Didn’t mean to disturb the whole mood you had going on with the party.”

“No apologies necessary,” Hannibal says, smiling as he picks up Will’s shirt and folds it neatly in his hand. “You’re the guest of honor tonight; I urge you to ‘shake this party up’ a little, as they say. I trust you can find your way back to the party?”

Will nods. “Thanks, uh, Doctor Lecter. I appreciate it.”

Hannibal gives him an enigmatic smile. “Please, call me Hannibal.”

And with that, Hannibal walks away.

Will can’t quite shake the feeling of discontent and discomfort throughout the night, but he put it down to his hatred for small conversations and his general distaste with socializing. He plasters on a wan smile, however, letting Alana do all the talking while he stands next to her all night long, only participating in the conversation when necessary.

That seems to be the easiest way to avoid any further embarrassment for the night – well, that, and the fact that Chilton seemed to be wary of approaching Will after the incident. Perhaps Hannibal had warned him off, or maybe Frederick had some sense left in him after all.

When the night finally ends and he and Alana say their goodbyes to Hannibal and the rest of the guests, Will is happy to retreat into his silent shell, thankful that Alana herself doesn’t seem to be in any mood to talk on their drive back to her house. They fall into bed almost immediately, both of them too exhausted and possibly a little drunk to talk beyond the barest sleepy grunts of “good nights."

The last thing Will remembers before he falls asleep is the way Hannibal’s eyes linger over him throughout the night.

When Will had woken up the next morning, he did so with a heavy feeling in his heart.

He’s currently getting ready for his wedding in a suite of the hotel where they will hold the ceremony later in the evening. Alana is busy preparing herself in another suite. No doubt she and her bridesmaids are congregating in her suite to make sure they have everything ready for the big day. Will doesn’t have a best man, much to no one’s surprise, and Alana had apparently borrowed one of the bridesmaids’ husbands to be his best man for the day. Thankfully the man doesn’t seem to think that he needs to be socializing with Will before the ceremony begins, so he’s left blessedly alone while he gets ready for the evening.

Will stares at his reflection in the bathroom mirror as he steps out of the shower, a towel wrapped around his waist, and he gazes into the mirror as he tries to make sense of what he sees there. The man looking back at him seems calm, almost disinterested even.

All he needs to do now is put on his wedding suit and walk down the aisle, and he’ll be Alana’s husband. He thinks he should really be feeling _something_ when he thinks about it.

Yet he feels nothing.

There’s no trepidation, no nervousness, not even anxiety at the thought of being married in less than a few hours. There’s also no excitement or anticipation, and that… well, that does worry him a little.

There must be something wrong with him. Wasn’t this what he was looking for? Some stability in his life? The potential for an actual family? Why else would he and Alana have been in a relationship all this while, if it wasn’t to work their way towards this? Why is he even doing this if he can’t even feel happy at the prospect of getting married and not dying alone? 

His reflection doesn’t seem to have an answer for him, no matter how long he stares at himself.

He’s startled out of his reverie when he hears the knock on the door to his hotel suite. Thinking it’s Alana or one of the wedding handlers coming by to brief him on the wedding preparations, he instinctively opens the door to let the other person in, ready to put on a smile for the other’s benefit.

He freezes at the sight of Hannibal greeting him instead.

“Will,” Hannibal says, smiling with a raised eyebrow at Will’s state of undress.

Will stiffens immediately, his eyebrow shooting up in confusion.

“Hannibal?” Will rasps. “Uh, sorry. What are you doing here?”

He looks around at the corridor. Seeing no one else around, Will fixes his questioning gaze on Hannibal once more.

“I came by to return your shirt,” Hannibal says simply, and only then did Will realize that Hannibal’s holding said shirt in his hands. “Perhaps I could come in? It’s better to have a conversation with the door closed since you’re in the midst of getting ready.”

“Uh,” Will says intelligibly before stepping aside and letting Hannibal in before he closes the door. “You didn’t have to bring it now. It’s… I’m not gonna wear it for the wedding, after all.”

He paces to the bathroom once more, his body feeling oddly stiff, and he gets ready to make his excuse and ask Hannibal to see himself out. Will barely get a word out before Hannibal speaks again.

“I admit it was an excuse to see you.”

Will thinks his eyebrows can’t go any higher than where it already is – there’s a danger of it disappearing completely when it shoots up further into his hairline. His throat works noisily in the relative silence following Hannibal’s statement, and he opens his mouth and closes it again when he finds that he doesn’t really have any reply.

Hannibal seems to take his silence as some sort of acceptance – or, as _something_ anyway, a victory maybe – because he puts Will’s shirt aside almost carelessly before he approaches Will slowly, both of them measuring each other in silence.

The doctor looks unfairly handsome in his dark suit, his hair artfully arranged across his forehead instead of slicked back this time around.

Will wonders why he noticed that particular detail.

“I would’ve thought you’d come out with a biting statement by now,” Hannibal says, his smile teasing. “Cat got your tongue?”

“What am I supposed to say in this situation?” Will challenges, though he’s still rooted to his spot. He crosses his arms, feeling defensive and all too aware that he’s basically half-naked as Hannibal’s eyes roam across his body. “A man I met less than twenty-four hours ago just came into my suite while I’m getting ready to get married to said man’s friend and colleague. There’s really not much I can say other than call for security to get you thrown out unless you tell me why you’re really here right now.”

Annoyingly enough, Hannibal’s smile widens at the threat. “And yet I don’t hear you calling for security.”

Will glares at Hannibal’s flippant tone. “I’m still waiting for an answer, aren’t I? What do you want, Hannibal?”

“Perhaps I can show you,” Hannibal purrs before he steps into Will’s personal space and kisses him.

Will lets out a surprised sound at that, though it quickly turns into a muffled moan when one of Hannibal’s hands immediately palms Will’s cock through the towel. Will jerks away, eyes wide with shock as he stares at Hannibal.

“What do you think _mmphh_ —”

The second kiss is no less shocking than the first, but Will finds himself responding and even melting into it for reasons he can’t even fathom right now, not when Hannibal’s hands are on him. His eyes flutter closed, equally relieved and alarmed that he definitely feels _something_ right now, much to his dismay.

Hannibal takes advantage of his distraction by maneuvering Will into the bathroom, the other man slamming the door closed in between their increasingly heated kisses. The sound of the door being locked feels like a final warning that Will chooses to ignore.

By the time Will’s aware of himself once more, he finds himself caged between Hannibal and the sink behind him, the ceramic sink digging into his ass almost painfully. At this point, even he can’t even deny his own arousal, his half-hard cock tenting the towel almost obscenely when he looks down at himself.

Hannibal pins him with his piercing gaze and his hands on either side of Will’s hips, and it’s enough to make him shudder in pleasure at feeling so seen and desired.

One of Hannibal’s hands tugs at the towel wrapped around Will’s waist and Hannibal raises his brow in question. “May I?”

Will swallows harshly and closes his eyes in anticipation. Out of all the things to arouse his excitement after months of his wedding preparation, it was _this_ that finally makes him feel electrified with want and desire.

He’s a horrible, horrible person.

But he also feels so alive.

He opens his eyes and nods shakily, his own fingers brushing against Hannibal’s as he pulls away the towel and shifts himself against Hannibal’s hold to drop the fabric unceremoniously onto the floor. He can’t even feel ashamed at his own desire once his body is bared for Hannibal to see and touch.

“You look as exquisite as I’ve imagined,” Hannibal murmurs against his lips, kissing Will as he takes Will’s erection in his hand, stroking slowly.

“You’ve been undressing me in your mind?” Will asks, just to be contrary, though his hips twitch encouragingly into Hannibal’s hand.

Hannibal chuckles and hums into his throat, rewarding his cheekiness with a soft tug at Will’s hardening cock. Will groans at the contact, his hands gripping onto Hannibal’s clothed shoulder, and something in him burns at the thought of him being so naked and exposed while Hannibal remains pristine in his suit.

“I’ve been imagining you in all sorts of manner,” Hannibal confesses when he pulls back to look at Will, his dark eyes dilated with desire. “I’ve heard so much of you from Alana; it feels as if I know you before I ever met you last night.”

At another time, Will might be alarmed at the thought of Alana talking about him with her former mentor, but right now he’s quickly losing the ability to think coherently when Hannibal touches him just so while the man is talking to him in that low tone. He can’t even bring himself to feel guilty that he’s letting Hannibal do this to him even though he’s supposed to be marrying Alana in a few more hours.

And that shouldn’t arouse Will as much as it does, but damn if it doesn’t affect him right now.

After a few more leisurely strokes, Hannibal shifts his hand lower, his fingers teasing at Will’s entrance. “May I?” Hannibal asks him for the second time.

Will’s brain is shouting at him to _stop,_ to _think about the fucking repercussions_ , but his instincts are making his decisions for him. He nods in an almost embarrassed manner – like a virgin bride on their wedding night, and isn’t that an ironic and laughable thought – before he buries his face into the juncture of Hannibal’s shoulder, breathing in the faint and refined scent of the man.

“Yes, please,” he murmurs shakily, enjoying the sound of the sharp intake of breath from Hannibal at his words. At least he’s not the only one affected by their encounter.

He lets out a breathy exhale when Hannibal pulls away and kisses him lightly before turning him around to lean against the sink. He’s questioning his decision when he sees his own wrecked expression in the mirror, but Hannibal seems intent on not letting him change his mind since Hannibal latches his teeth onto Will’s throat in a gentle bite as his hands seek something from inside the pockets of his pants.

Will can’t help the huff of laughter when he sees Hannibal pulling out a packet of lube and condoms.

“Been planning on this?” Will asks, wry but teasing. “Do you just bring those around to weddings?”

Hannibal’s smirk is answer enough. “There’s always someone desperate for a fuck at a wedding, dear Will. Though I think you were expecting this, deep down.”

The way Hannibal says "fuck" brings color to Will's face. There’s really nothing he can reply without it sounding like a lie, so Will keeps silent as he listens to the sounds of Hannibal ripping off the packet of condoms and preparing himself before he returns his attention to Will. Hannibal hadn’t even bothered to take off the rest of his clothes, his pants hanging loosely off his hips as he slides closer to Will. Perhaps he thinks Will would use the chance to run away in the middle of undressing himself, which is an amusing thought.

He hisses at the touch of Hannibal’s slicked fingers against his hole and his grip tightens on the sink in front of him. He closes his eyes and forces himself to relax, to forget about anything other than this. It’s been a while since he’s last done this, but the touches soon turn pleasurable as Hannibal’s fingers brush unerringly against his prostate. He can’t quite control the moans that slip out of his mouth, the sound echoing inside the small bathroom.

He bites his lips to stay silent, highly aware of the wet, squelching sounds of Hannibal fingering him open. An insistent pressure against his prostate sends another cry spilling out of his mouth, and his eyes fly open in surprise and pleasure.

Will is not surprised to see Hannibal eyeing him intently through the mirror, and he shivers in anticipation when he finally feels Hannibal lining himself up against him.

“I want to hear the sounds you make as I take you, Will,” Hannibal practically purrs in his ears before he slowly pushes himself inside.

“Fuck,” Will groans, intensely aroused at the way Hannibal watches him as he’s penetrated.

He’s only slightly aware of the garbled sounds streaming out of him, his head lowered and his grip tightening against the sink. His cock is leaking by the time Hannibal’s hips are flushed with his. Hannibal insinuates himself tighter against Will, his hands stroking Will’s throat and stomach in soothing caresses.

When Hannibal finally moves, Will loses any sense of rationality and finally lets himself fall into the pleasurable sensations of being filled full and held tight against Hannibal’s body, the sounds of Hannibal’s grunts of pleasure filling his ear. He lets himself be pulled against Hannibal, uncaring of how his sweat must be soaking into Hannibal’s suit by now. All he can think of is the blinding pleasure of being taken, Hannibal’s thrusts eliciting moans out of him.

“Oh god,” he gasps as a thrust sends him on his toes. “There, that’s good, oh—”

Hannibal takes the hint, taking care to aim his thrusts at Will’s prostate then, his hands locked around Will’s throat and waist to keep him still.

“Oh, fuck, Hannibal—” he whispers, wrapping his own hand around Hannibal’s.

A knock on the bathroom door stops them both.

“Will?”

Will immediately tenses at the sound of Alana’s voice beyond the door, his eyes widening in shock. Hannibal, too, holds himself still, both of them breathing hard and looking at each other through the mirror, waiting for each other’s cue.

His throat works noisily as he tries to calm himself down. “Yeah?” he rasps, wincing at the way his voice cracks. He ignores Hannibal’s stare and tries to focus on Alana’s words, tries to ignore the way Hannibal's cock fills him perfectly at the moment.

“Oh good, you’re there, I was looking for you since you weren’t answering your phone,” Alana’s voice says through the door that separates her from Will and Hannibal. “Just wanted to let you know that the wedding planner just got here, and we’re going to start with makeup and everything. So you have at least four more hours before you have to put your penguin suit on.”

Her voice is light and teasing, and Will swallows the guilt of finding himself being fucked by a man he barely knew while he’s supposed to be preparing for his own wedding.

“Uh, yeah, I’ll be right there,” Will says, clearing his throat. “Just… shaving and taking care of a few things before… you know.”

“Okay,” Alana says, her voice filled with mirth and supposed understanding. “Don’t have too much fun without me. I’ll see you in a few more hours!”

Hannibal’s hands tighten around Will’s throat, and Will glares at the man’s reflection before responding to Alana. “Yeah, see you, Alana.”

“Love you!” He hears Alana’s soft chuckle before she retreats.

Will holds himself still for several more heartbeats to make sure Alana has left. Once he’s sure she’s no longer in the suite, he lets himself sag against Hannibal, relieved and ashamed and still so fucking aroused. What the fuck is wrong with him?

Hannibal pulls Will’s attention towards him again by burying himself deeper into Will and sucking at Will’s ear, the action pulling another strangled moan out of Will.

“Would you like to continue?” Hannibal whispers in his ear, his eyes boring into Will's.

Will shivers. Dear god. Does he ever.

Hannibal waits for Will’s nod before he gives Will a wide smile and resumes his leisurely thrusts. The hand on Will’s throat moves to wrap around his mouth, muffling the sounds of pleasure tumbling out of him.

“Can’t risk Alana hearing the lovely sounds you make,” Hannibal murmurs, fucking into him in slow, even strokes. “You’re beautiful like this, Will.”

Will groans against Hannibal’s palm, his sweat pouring off him in rivulets now. Hannibal feels so good inside him, and he burns with the knowledge that he'd never felt this way with anyone else before this.

“Look at yourself, how open you are for me right now,” Hannibal grunts. “Has Alana seen you as intimately as I have, seeing you so raw with desire and enthusiasm at being taken this way?”

Will looks at the way his body is curved against Hannibal’s, his erection slapping against his belly and his hands holding onto Hannibal as he’s fucked within an inch of his life in the bathroom of his suite on the eve of his own goddamn wedding.

He’s never been so aroused in his whole damn life.

Will moans helplessly as his orgasm hits him after a few more aimed thrusts to his prostate, his body clenching around Hannibal’s cock. He hears Hannibal curse softly before the man sinks his teeth into Will’s throat and stills inside Will, Hannibal reaching his own climax.

He lets himself slump against Hannibal then, still riding the high of his orgasm. Hannibal strokes his hand through Will’s curls, the other hand stroking Will’s belly, streaked with his own come.

Hannibal pulls away after a moment, removing the condom and tying it off before disposing it in the bin below the sink. With that done, the man turns the water on and begins to clean himself with a damp handkerchief procured from the inside of his suit.

At a loss at what to do after his impulsive decision, Will tries to catch his breath and just stares at Hannibal as the man goes through the motions of making himself look presentable once again. There are damp spots on Hannibal’s suit where Will’s sweat clung onto it, yet the man looks unperturbed as he dabs his handkerchief lightly against the fabric, trying to clean it as best as he could. He’s amazed at how collected Hannibal looks when he finally turns to look at Will, a small smile on his face.

Will finds himself smiling in response, his traitorous heart beating rapidly again when Hannibal approaches him for a kiss.

It's unlike their first kiss in every way. Hannibal kisses him almost reverently now, soft and gentle, and Will responds in turn, afraid to pull Hannibal closer to him since he’s still a sweaty mess after the mind-blowing sex they just had.

When Hannibal finally pulls away, Will just stares at him, dumbfounded. He swallows around the lump in his throat before he decides to break the silence.

“Do you want to take a shower with me?”

Whatever Hannibal had expected for Will to say in that moment, it definitely wasn’t that, judging by the faint surprise on the man’s face.

Will is surprised at his own uncharacteristic lapse of judgment, but the last few minutes have shown that his judgment has been badly compromised, and he can’t really find an excuse as to why other than he _wants_ Hannibal in a way that he can’t explain.

“I mean,” Will continues, licking his lips, suddenly unsure with himself. “Since I need to take another shower. And you can’t tell me you’re comfortable sweating it out in your suit.”

“Dear Will,” Hannibal says, smiling slightly. “I would love nothing more. But I fear they might find us if I let myself touch you again. As it is, you have less than four hours to make your excuses to Alana.”

Will stares at Hannibal, nonplussed. “You… are you suggesting I run out on Alana on the day of our wedding?”

Hannibal’s smile widens; it looks irritatingly charming on him. “Only if you agree to accompany me, of course. It is entirely your choice to make. You can have your dream of a house with a picket fence with Alana and your potential children, live out a charming suburban life until you two die of natural causes. Though I can’t see how that can sound satisfying to someone like you, if I may be so bold.”

Will lets out a huff at that, ignoring the fact that Hannibal is probably right in assuming that Will would most likely hate himself in the long run. “I sense there’s an 'or' coming.”

“Or we can disappear right now. Together. Leave a note for Alana and never see her again. Almost polite.”

“How is that even remotely polite?” Will says, laughing in disbelief, even if a part of him is tempted by Hannibal’s offer.

“She would be none the wiser of the fact that I seduced you on the eve of your wedding, and that you agreed to be seduced.”

Will swallows the sudden flash of fear down, his eyes narrowing at the ominous threat in Hannibal’s words. He sighs, knowing how he fucked up and how fucked he is. It feels like his entire future is slipping out of his fingers. All the time he had spent with Alana to build their crumbling relationship is slowly crashing down like sandcastles swept away by the waves.

And yet.

The thought of leaving everything behind doesn’t seem to be such a bad thing right at this moment. He’s never put much stock into his current position in Quantico; he knows he can rebuild himself with his own abilities, maybe get a job as a mechanic somewhere, even with his rusty skills. His relationship with Alana had been pleasant, but there was always something lacking on his part; it's always felt as if he’s missing out on something even as he goes through the motions of a "functional" relationship.

Hannibal lets him have his silence as Will mulls things over, but Will knows his decision is made the moment he had let Hannibal touch him.

Will lets out a heavy sigh and pushes Hannibal away. He doesn’t miss the slight disappointment in Hannibal’s face when he pulls away, and it thrills him that Hannibal seems to want this as much as he does.

“I just need to shower,” Will explains, running a soothing hand down the lapel of Hannibal’s suit. “You’re very distracting. I’ll see you in ten minutes.”

Hannibal’s face brightens then, and he pulls Will in for another kiss, ignoring Will’s protest.

Will laughs as he pushes Hannibal away again. “I’m warning you now, I have seven dogs, and they’re all coming with me wherever I go.”

Hannibal hums, smiling in victory. “Yes, I’ve seen the furs on Alana’s clothes. She never did manage to get rid of them completely.”

“Are you saying you’ll do better in that department?”

“I have a few tricks up my sleeves when it comes to removing furs and other bodily stains from my clothes, yes.”

“…right. Okay, I’m gonna take a shower now before someone comes searching for us.”

“Please be quick.”

Will smiles at the reluctant way Hannibal lets him go, and he shoos Hannibal out of the bathroom before focusing on his own escape plan.

There’s only a short note left on the bed in Will’s suite, along with his wedding suit and engagement ring.

_I’m sorry that I wasn’t a good man. I wish you all the best. Goodbye, Alana._

He only hears about the aftermath of that particular note almost a week later, and by then he’s happily suntanned and basking in the warmth of Hannibal’s body against his as they sleep next to each other in one of Hannibal’s summer houses. (Turns out he has several because of course he does.)

None of their acquaintances have suspected that their disappearance had anything to do with each other, and Will is happy to let them believe that for a little while longer. It’s nice to imagine that he and Hannibal could spend this little pocket of time together with everyone else none the wiser of the fact that Hannibal has basically fucked Will silly on the eve of his wedding, enough that Will feels compelled to run away with him until everything has settled down in Baltimore.

When Will had asked Hannibal what he would do once the high society crowd found out what happened, Hannibal only shrugged at the thought of being shunned and demonized by the whole of Baltimore, considering what they had done to Alana. For all of Hannibal's appearance, apparently, he too never cared for their views for him, content to watch over the adoring crowd like a benevolent god instead of joining in the revelries. Fitting, really, Will thinks, that Hannibal has a god-complex. 

Alana is well-loved, but Hannibal has his own influences, so Will doesn’t doubt that Hannibal will weather through whatever censure he receives when they eventually re-emerge into society.

As for Will, he’s content at the thought of being shunned by people he doesn’t particularly care for – it gives them more incentive not to approach him in the future. When he gets back to Wolf Trap, he’ll sort things out with Alana somehow, and if she doesn’t forgive him – well, fair enough. He doesn’t expect forgiveness; he would welcome her censure for all the pain he’s caused her after all that’s said and done.

For now, he hums in contentment as Hannibal wakes him up with leisurely kisses across his nape and shoulders. He leans back into the other man’s warmth, encouraging Hannibal’s touches across his skin. His body thrums with the slow, burning arousal as they rock against each other, both of them content to take things slow with no thought of anything beyond the here and now.

For once in his life, Will feels immeasurably happy. 


End file.
